by TJ Klune
(They could take care of themselves, they liked to remind us, but it never hurt to have the queen of queens, the homo jocks, and an angry fat guy at your back. We might have been a motley crew, but we could fuck some shit up if needed. Eyes would be scratched out and shins kicked, that’s for damn sure.)
So there was a difference, at times, when she was Kori and needed to be Kori. I knew there were people who didn’t understand gender fluidity, that it almost sounded like Corey and Kori were crazy, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. And I didn’t think it had to do with body dysphoria, where they were uncomfortable being male or uncomfortable being female. They identified how they were, which is why it was fluid. I didn’t think they would want to transition, but even if that were the case, nothing would change.
We’d keep an eye on them. It might have just been something as simple as stress from school.
“It looks amazing no matter what,” Helena said. “Julio did an amazing job. You’re welcome for the recommendation.”
Corey rolled his eyes. “Bitch, please. I knew about him before you ever did.”
“That’s true,” Helena said. “But we’re going to pretend it’s not. We also need to convince Paul to go to him from now on too.”
“There is nothing wrong with my hair,” I said, running my fingers through it even as Helena batted my hands away to reset the tiara.
“You go to a place that charges ten dollars to cut your hair,” Helena said. “There is something wrong with your hair, even if we can’t see it.”
“Just because I don’t want to shell out sixty bucks to have my neck rubbed while I get a haircut doesn’t mean there’s something wrong. Why in God’s name would you spend that much money ever to have someone bad touch you while they also hold scissors?”
“We don’t have time for you to make points that nobody cares about,” Helena said. “We must pregame because our ride will be here shortly.”
“The limo you ordered,” I said dubiously. “Because for some reason, you think we need a limo.”
“Baby doll, we always need limos wherever we go. But since we’re comfortably entrenched in middle-class America, we don’t always get what we want. But tonight? Yes, we are taking a limo.”
“You didn’t have to rent one,” I told her. “I know those can be expensive.”
And I immediately knew something was up when she went shifty-eyed. “It… wasn’t as expensive as you might think.”
“You did something, didn’t you?” I accused her.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“She did,” Corey said, standing up from the bed.
“Skank,” Helena hissed. “I will spank that pert little ass of yours, don’t think I won’t.”
“Oh, I believe you. You’ve done it to me before. You even made me count out loud, remember? And then we were partway through and realized I was far too into it, and we stopped immediately because you’re like my far older spinster of a sister.”
“A pox on all your houses,” Helena said, pushing me out of the way as apparently she needed to stand in front of the mirror to slide on her gloves. “Tell me I look beautiful.”
“You look beautiful,” Corey and I intoned dutifully.
“Thank you, baby dolls. I certainly do, don’t I? Paul? Have you reconsidered letting me officiate your wedding yet?”
“Not even in the slightest.”
“You cunt.”
“Not sorry at all.”
“I shan’t be attending.”
“Oh, you’ll be there.”
“Fuck your precious little face,” she snarled at me.
“You wish.”
“We have to do shots,” she demanded.
AND WE did.
We started with what had to be the most disgusting-looking shot, a Cum in the Hot Tub, which was vodka and rum, with a few drops of Bailey’s dropped into the liquor, looking like jizz spreading in water. I almost couldn’t make myself drink it until Helena reminded me that I sometimes swallowed with Vince and I should man the fuck up like the come-slut that I was. That certainly didn’t make it any easier, as I was sure the consistency was going to be… solid.
Thankfully, it wasn’t.
From there, it was a Cock-Sucking Cowboy.
Then a Sex with an Alligator, which is how I knew the night was probably going to get out of hand, because that shot had Jägermeister in it. Which, unfortunately, I didn’t find out until I’d already choked it down.
“Jager?” I said, my voice already a little louder than it should have been. “Helena, you know what happens when I have Jager. Are you out of your damn mind?”
“I have plans for you,” Helena purred, throwing back another shot. She could hold her liquor far better than I ever could. I was already feeling a little wobbly, and the night was just starting. I needed to make sure the limo driver knew to stop at Los Betos at some point so I could get a burrito the size of my face.
“What happens when Paul has Jager?” Corey asked.
“I start getting sexy,” I said solemnly. “It’s inevitable. When Jager goes into my body, Sexy Paul comes roaring out. There’s nothing that you can do to stop it. I’ve only had one shot of it, so we should be okay. But any more, and it’ll happen. So we should probably just stop now.”
“This is going to be the best night ever,” Corey whispered fervently.
Helena turned back around, another shot in her hands. “One more,” she said. “This one is called a Dirty Oatmeal. It’s made from Bailey’s. You’ll like it. My beautiful straight-boy bartender with amazing nipples, Izaac, recommended it to me.”
I eyed her suspiciously for a moment but then figured she had my back. She was my best friend, after all. She knew as well as I did that Sexy Paul had no place in the world. He was better off locked up within me, never to again be released.
I knocked back the shot. “Wow,” I said. “That was good. Bailey’s and… what else? It had a different taste to it.”
Helena leaned forward until her lips scraped against my ear, causing me to shiver. “One part Bailey’s,” she whispered. “And one part… Jager.”
I gasped as I pulled away. “You vile betrayer. Helena! You know what’ll be unleashed! We swore that we would never allow Sexy Paul to come back again. You know what happened last time!”
She pulled away, an evil grin on her face. “Oh, baby doll. I’m counting on it.”
I COULD already feel the sexy starting to break through as we left the house. I was doing my best to hold it back, but I found myself sliding on my mirrored sunglasses, even though it was already dark out. I knew, just like everyone else, that wearing sunglasses at night immediately made a person at least forty-two percent hotter than if they went without them. I tried to resist the need to wear them, and I only made it a few steps before I ripped them off and said, “No. I’m not gonna be that person. I just can’t.”
“He’s fighting it,” Helena told Corey. “You know how Bruce Banner fights the Hulk. It’s like that, only sexier.”
“I’m on board for this, let me tell you,” Corey said. “You don’t even need to worry about that. This whole train wreck? Sign me the fuck up.”
“Whatever,” I said, fighting the urge to flip my hair sexily. “It ain’t no thang. I don’t got no ish, a’ight?”
“Whoa,” Corey said. “That escalated rather quickly.”
“It’s beginning,” Helena said gleefully. “He still thinks he can repel the urge, but it’s already too late.”
I ignored them. “Where’s the ride?” I said, looking up and down the street. “I thought you said there’d be a kickass limo for us to—”
And that’s when I heard the unmistakable sound of “La Cucaracha.”
I turned slowly.
Rolling down the street was an abomination unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was bone white, with rust on the rocker panels. There were streamers hanging from the tinted windows. I couldn’t see into the windshield given that the headl
ights were so bright.
“What,” I said, “in the fuck is that?”
“That, my dear boy,” Helena said, “is a 1988 Cadillac Super Stretch Limousine. It’s a classic.”
“I… don’t know what to do with that.”
“As you shouldn’t.”
“Where did you even find something like that to rent?”
“Oh, I didn’t find it.”
The limo stopped in front of my driveway.
I had a really bad feeling about this.
The driver’s door opened.
A figure stepped out, hunched over, wearing a large chauffeur’s hat, and a smart black blazer. The driver shuffled their way around the car, and I had to blink against the headlights, trying to make out who it was.
“Welcome,” the driver said, “to the 2016 Paul Auster’s Getting Married Fuck Yeah Super Bachelor Party!”
A window in the rear of the limo rolled down. “Language. We talked about that. Everything was fine except for the f-word. There is no need to say that. In fact, if you need to add another word, might I suggest the 2016 Paul Auster’s Getting Married Heck Yeah Super Bachelor Party?”
“Oh my fuck,” I said.
Nana tilted the chauffer’s hat back on her head and cackled.
“Didn’t I just say something about the f-word?” Dad asked, leaning his head out the window.
A second window rolled down next to the first, and Mom stuck her head out too. “Hush, dear. You know how he gets when he’s surprised. We should just let this one slide this time. And look at him. He’s wearing a tiara. If there was ever a time for someone to curse, it’s when you’re a man being forced to wear a tiara.”
“I didn’t curse when you forced me to wear a tiara.”
“I know,” she said. “But, to be fair, I didn’t force you to do anything. You wanted to wear it because you said that it made your eyes sparkle.”
“I did look very nice, didn’t I?” Dad said. “Okay, I’ll let it slide this one time. But make sure to keep it clean from here on out. My, that is a rather large penis on that sash you’re wearing, son. Impressive. I wonder why it is that African-American men often have large penises?”
“I suppose we could ask Corey,” Mom said, “but I think that might be racially insensitive and inappropriate, given that he’s technically our son and daughter.”
“It’s more often true than not,” Nana said. “You know how I always say once you go black, you never go back? That’s the reason.”
Corey fist-pounded Nana.
Helena posed as Jessica Rabbit in my driveway.
Mom and Dad waved at me.
“Oh my fuck,” I said again, sounding sexier than ever.
This was going to end in jail time and/or a choreographed dance down 4th Avenue.
I didn’t know which was worse.
I SAT in the limousine at one end. Mom, Dad, Helena, and Corey were all seated at the other end, staring at me. Nana was in the driver’s seat, the partition lowered. (“So I can make sure you don’t talk crap about me!”)
“Mom,” I said, “you look nice.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, smoothing down her dress. “It feels nice to dress up fancy every now and then.”
“Dad,” I said, “you look handsome.”
“Appreciate that, son,” Dad said, trying to fix his crooked tie. “S’not every day I put on a noose and go out.”
“Nana,” I said, “I don’t want to know where you got the limo, do I?”
“The Italians owed me a favor,” she said. “And no, I don’t mean the mafia.” Then, she whispered, “Or do I?”
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” I said, spreading my legs out in front of me, slouching down in my seat so I looked like a model. “What the balls is going on?”
They looked at Helena. “Did he forget it’s his bachelor party?” Mom asked, confused.
“No,” Helena said. “He absolutely knew it was the bachelor party tonight. We were pregaming.”
“He had Jager,” Corey said.
“Ah,” Mom said. “That explains the sunglasses he’s wearing even though it’s dark out.”
“I’m not wearing sunglasses—holy crap, I am. How did these get back on my face? I took them off!”
“Then you put them back on,” Helena reminded me. “And said that it was hard for any one of us to understand just how it was to be a sexy beast.”
“Sounds about right,” I said, aloof. “I know what I’m talking about.”
“Is this Sexy Paul?” Corey asked.
“Close,” Dad said. “He’s getting there. You’ll know when it hits. How much did he have?”
“Two shots,” Corey said.
“Except that I might have made them doubles,” Helena said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Oops.”
“Then we’ve got about ten more minutes,” Dad said. “Believe me, you’ll see it happen.”
“I let the beat drop,” I agreed. “Now. What are you all doing here?”
“We want to celebrate with you,” Mom said. “It’s not every day our son has a bachelor party.”
“And it will probably be the only one you have,” Dad said. “Unless for some reason you and Vince get divorced down the road and you attempt to counteract your middle-aged doldrums by bringing home a much younger trophy husband. Then you might get to have a second one. But in case that doesn’t happen, we wanted to be here for it.”
“I’m the trophy husband,” I said. “Guys see me, and they’re all like, daaaaamn. Gotta get me some of that.”
“Oh boy,” Helena said.
“I’m a cold-hearted snake,” I said.
“Did he just quote Paula Abdul?” Corey whispered.
“Just go with it,” Helena said. “It makes things easier.”
“I’m going to send sexy texts to my fiancé,” I announced, pulling out my phone. “No one look at me.”
They all diverted their gazes when I glared at them. Granted, they couldn’t see my glare, but they got the idea.
I was feeling amazing. The screen was a little blurry, but that was okay. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I was going to get him so riled up that he’d want to destroy me later. It took me three minutes to send the sexiest text I could think of.
Hey
It was perfect. It showed how cool I was, but didn’t give away the goods. It was like fishing, I knew. Just had to cast the line and wait for a nibble.
Which I got almost immediately.
Vince: hi! dare sez can’t use fone for long
Me: That’s okay. I wanted to tell you something
Vince: wut?
Me: I want to suck your duck
Vince: WUT
Me: Damn autocorrect
Me: Suck your duck
Me: Your penmanship
Me: Your cock-eyed giblets
Me: I WANT LICK YOUR ASSISTANT
Vince: wut is happening
Me: I had jager. I’m sexy
Vince: already??!?!
Me: Helena made me. What are you wearing?
Vince: ohhhhh. i get it. u wanna sext?
Me: Yes. But keep it clean. Mom and Dad are here
Me: And Nana. In a murder limo
Me: I still don’t understand
Me: I’m wearing sunglasses at night
Me: You know what jager does to me
Vince: i do. its hot. ur hot
Me: I know. You go first
Vince: ok
Vince: clean sext
Vince. i lean over and shake your hand.
Me: Yeah
Vince: i got a good grip
Me: You do.
Vince: it’s a good handshake
Me: It’s like a business handshake. But sexier.
Vince: i lean over and say
Vince: it’s nice to meet u
Vince: then I kiss ur cheek
Me: So hot
Vince: ok ok, you do me
Me: VINCE! I SAID KEEP IT
CLEAN! MY MOM MIGHT HEAR
Vince: no. i meant its ur turn to clean sext me
Vince: wait
Vince: how can mom hear if its text??????
Me: I’m reading them out loud
“Oh my God,” Corey moaned. “I have never been more happy to be alive than I am right at this moment.”
“You can tell the sexy is coming by the way he’s got that Elvis curl to his lip,” Mom said. “It’s adorable.”
“Is that what that is?” Dad said, squinting at me. “I thought he was trying to keep himself from sneezing. I suppose that can be sexy, if you like that kind of thing.”
Me: I tell you I like your hair
Vince: yeah? do it. give me compliments so hard
Me: I like your hair
Vince: keep going
Me: And the way you make French toast
Vince: 1 tbspn vanilla bean paste. i rock that shit
Me: You put whip cream on it
Vince: and strawberries. And maple syrup.
Me: Side of hash browns.
Vince: maybe a sausage link or two
“Um,” Corey said. “What.”
Me: I pour you your coffee
Vince: in that mug i like????
Me: Yeah
Vince: do u make it how i like it?
Me: All the sugar. And the cream.
Vince: u make me that coffee so good
Me: Yeah, I know how you want it
Vince: u hand it to me
Vince: i take a sip
Me: Is it warm?
Vince: so warm.
“Annnnnd that’s enough of that,” Helena said, snatching the phone out of my hands.
“Hey!” I growled at her, voice sensual and extraordinarily stimulating. I took off my sunglasses in slow motion. “I was using that.”
“You were describing breakfast,” Corey said, confused. “And I was still slightly turned on.”
Helena tapped some buttons on the phone. “You can talk to him later,” she said when she’d finished, shoving my phone into her fake cleavage. “You need to focus on the plan at hand.”
“Which is?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing. Hey. Corey.”
